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The Prongernator, Part 2 of 3

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Zamboni
Zamboni

Preface: I saw Terminator: Salvation a while back and it sucked. Hardcore. Really bad. I also saw it with a pretty good buzz going, so bits and pieces were lost. In addition, the sound went out for about ten minutes mid movie, so the story (or lack there of) was even harder to follow. Therefore I decided to write a story about the Sharks, while loosely basing it on the premise of the Terminator series. Hell, just read it.

[Part one can be found here]

**Disclaimer: Although Mr. Plank is the star here, I wrote all his lines... he may not agree with a single word I said that he said.**

Randy Hahn: "The dreams of almost nine hundred and thirty four hundred thousand San Joseans died on April 27th, 2009. The survivors of the playoff collapse called the off-season Judgment Day. They lived only to face a new nightmare: the war against the salary cap. The leader of the NHL, Gary Bettman, sent two machines back through time. Their mission: to destroy Doug Wilson, the leader San Jose Sharks, our GM. The first was programmed to strike in the year 1993, before Doug was an NHL executive. It failed. The second was set to strike at Doug in 2009. As before, the website was able to send a lone warrior, a protector for Doug. It was just a question of which one of them would reach him first."

[The following events occur in the Sharks' Executive office...]

Doug Wilson sits at his massive desk, working on his team's autopsy. He has just been dealt another crushing playoff blow, as his San Jose Sharks were swiftly eliminated in six games. He stares at the broken pieces of yet another season, but is distracted by the clap of thunder.

A bright light flashes and out of the mist a single figure appears.

Mr. Plank: Doug Wilson, pleasure to meet you. First off, gotta say I laugh every time I see a press release with your name on it. Reminds me of the Doug from Weeds, and I always imagine... well, you get the idea. Anyways, I'm here from the future. You met my partner roughly fifteen years ago. We're from Fear The Fin.

Doug Wilson: ...uh, yeah. Ok. Look, I'm just finishing up this autopsy here, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave...

Mr. Plank: The Autopsy!?! I've lived my whole life looking for that document. Can, can I see it?

Doug Wilson: Well, it's not done yet, I still have to talk to some players and...

Mr. Plank: Doug, that autopsy will never be complete. You will use it to stall for weeks, but you will never meet with that last player, you will never talk with that last coach. That autopsy is the reason I'm here. 

Doug Wilson: What are you saying? I'm going to find out what happened to this shell of a season! I'm going to fix this!

Mr. Plank: That's the problem, Mr. Wilson. You'll never be able to understand what happened to this team. They should have brought the cup to San Jose. They should have given your life meaning. But they didn't. You have to put down the autopsy, and move on.

Doug Wilson: But changes need to be made! I'm thinking we trade for the first overall pick and then...

Mr. Plank: Doug! Nothing crazy has to happen today.

Doug Wilson: So what do I do?

Mr. Plank: There is only so much I can tell you, but it starts with Marleau. He is the future of this team, whether he stays or goes. Keep him, and he may lead you to a cup. Trade him, and he could bring players who someday could parade down Santa Clara St.

Doug Wilson: Well, which is it then? What do I do?

Mr. Plank: That's the problem, sir... I don't know. You see, in the future, a man named Jim Balsillie has purchased every small market team and moved them to Canada. In the future, there are no San Jose Sharks.

Doug Wilson: But, but... Greg Jamison and I would never let that happen. We'd fight it to the death!

Mr. Plank: And you will. You will fight. That's why Balsillie, along with the help of a brainwashed and money hungry Gary Bettman, has sent the Prongernators into the past to destroy you. I'm here to see that they don't.

Doug Wilson: What else can you tell me... what other moves should I make?

Mr. Plank: I can tell you very little. I can give you names such as Halak, Heatley, Hemsky, and Gustavsson. Those are players who you should look into. Semenov, McGinn, Couture and Staubitz... those are the players you should show more faith in. If you look to trade, consider Cheechoo, Ehrhoff, Nabokov, and Michalek. Do not sacrifice Marleau for too little; he may have more value than anything you will receive in return.

Doug Wilson: I need to do all of this? I'm not sure...

Mr. Plank: These are merely things that have been suggested in our forum, maybe you should check it out sometim...

The two are interrupted by the sound of the door being flung from it's hinges. Another Prongernator, this one more advanced than before, stands in the doorway.

Doug Wilson: Haven't you done enough already, Pronger? No, you've gotta come and get all up in my biz, busting through my wall like the flippin' Kool Aid man.

Mr. Plank: You fool... don't you get it!? Chris Pronger is not a man. He is the machine, sent from the future by Gary Bettman to destroy you. Remember like 15 years ago when it happened the first time?!

Doug Wilson: Oh... yeah... and some guy from TCBY or something came to save me. Man, I do love that yougurt. You know, that place gets a bad rap... it's not Baskin Robbins, but gosh darn it, sometimes I don't want to be overwhelmed with 31 Flavors! Oh! Oh! You know what I love? Those little bitty gummy Sharks that they put on top. It's like a flavor explosion! And the best part is that it's pretty much guilt free, yougurt is naturally low in fat if you weren't aware, so I always load up on the toppings. Dare I say, it makes me feel a little... naughty. Seriously, I love walking out of there and all the other people are like, "Woah, is that Doug Wilson?! Do you see how many Reeses Pieces he fit on that soft serve? That man is a bad ass." You know what, I know it's late, but I'm the GM of the San Jose Sharks! I practically own this town... I'll call my buddy; he manages the one over on Bascom and Hamilton! Mr. Frank, Mr. Niedermayer, you guys wanna do a quick FroYo run? I'm buyin!

Mr. Plank: I really don't know how we've held a discussion for this long with him standing right there. For the purposes of this story, I feel like I should tell you to run; but judging by the apparent lack of urgency on the Prongernator's part, I'd say that a brisk walk would suffice.

As the two barely finish their four minute conversation, the Prongernator elbows Mr. Plank out of the office's window, sending him plummeting towards the ice. (In my imagination, I'd like to believe that Doug's office floats above the rink, which is frozen and playable year round) The machine then hooks Wilson, and pulls him out of the window and down to the frozen playing surface.

Doug Wilson: Mr. Hank!? Where are you!?!

Doug sits at center ice as the Prongernator approaches. Slowly, out of the seats, a Shark Blimp (the one with the bad ass fin rings) bumps the Prongernator from behind. As he stands disoriented, Mr. Plank, bloodied and broken, rides a Zamboni towards Wilson. He crushes the Prongernator, coating him with a thin layer of frozen ice.

As Doug Wilson stands, he begins to thank our hero.

Doug Wilson: Mr. Clank, I don't know how t...

KERBLAM! (A pretty sweet made up sound, IMO)The Prongernator's hand reaches through the Zamboni, grabbing Plank and pulling him into the depths of the Brocade-sponsored ice maintenance vessel. An explosion sends pieces flying across the arena... there are no survivors. Except for Wilson. 'Cause that's kinda the point of this whole thing.

Doug Wilson: All bloodshed this over...Alexi Semenov? I'll never forget you, Academy Award winning actress Ms. Hillary Swank...hasta la vista, baby.

Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion of our three part series...